


This Morning

by suitesamba



Series: The "This" Series [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 21:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1663796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suitesamba/pseuds/suitesamba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after the stag night - the stag night where Mrs. Hudson never interrupted with the client. Part two of the "This" series. Follows "This Kiss."</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Morning

This Morning

He opens his eyes to a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake in the dim light of dawn. He blinks against the throbbing in his head, swallows around the dryness in his throat. He’s fallen asleep in his chair, still dressed. 

“Yeah, me too.” John is here. It is his hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, his voice, rough and low, in his ear. He presses a glass of water into Sherlock’s hands then holds out two white capsules. Sherlock downs them without comment, drains the water and hands the glass back to John.

They stare at each other. The foggy playfulness-turned-intensity of the night before has bled away into the stone cold sobriety of morning. 

“Listen – Sherlock – I’ve got to go. I’ll need to sort things out with Mary.”

Sherlock blinks again. John’s hand is back on his shoulder, both comforting and disconcerting. “Right. She’ll be worried.” He closes his eyes again. He doesn’t want to see John’s back, see the door close behind him this last time. 

The hand on his shoulder remains. Sherlock counts to five – slowly. The fingers squeeze, then release.

“Not that kind of sorting out,” John says. He sounds half amused. “Go back to sleep – this might take a while.”

Much later, Sherlock is still wondering what John means to do.

They have made no promises, one to the other. No declarations of love. They have played a silly game, had far too much to drink, run headlong through carefully-erected, invisible barriers. He sinks back into his chair, his bed the previous night, and draws his knees to his chest. He remembers John’s laughter, in his eyes, in his voice. The press of John’s toes on his thigh. John kneeling before him, Sherlock’s thighs closing on him, holding him in place. 

A kiss.

He wants to pick up his mobile, text John. Tell him to stop. That he can’t replace Mary. Can’t make a commitment. Can warm his bed (yes) but will break his heart. Will continue to be exactly the man he already is and will drive John to the brink of insanity and despair and beyond.

John texts him first.

_\- She says she’s willing to share me. -_

Share?

Horrific scenes of the three of them in bed together waltz through his mind. He stares at the phone.

_-Share? – SH_

_\- Says I can alternate between here and there. -_

No. No promises. No commitments. No possible way he can replace Mary. But no. Unacceptable.

_-Oh. –SH_

_-Oh? -_

_\- What do you want? – SH_

_\- I want to come home. -_

Sherlock’s lips lift a fraction at the corners. 

_\- Have you kissed her? – SH_

_\- Kissed her? Today? No.-_

_\- Kiss her. –SH_

_\- Kiss her? Why? Why should I kiss her? -_

_\- Experiment. –SH_

_-? -_

_\- Need data.-SH_

_\- You need data about kissing Mary?-_

_\- No. You do. – SH_

He stares at his mobile until John processes the demand. A minute passes.

_\- Alright. Fine.-_

Sherlock pours exactly one cup of water in the electric kettle and plugs it in. His mobile vibrates before the kettle boils.

_\- You’ve ruined me. -_

Sherlock ponders this statement as the water in the kettle boils away to nothing.


End file.
